


Fate's Beautiful Mess

by passcrow



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Doc/Wyatt implied, F/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 00:11:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11242200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/passcrow/pseuds/passcrow
Summary: “We could make a beautiful mess, Darlin', you and I.”“That's what I'm worried about.”





	Fate's Beautiful Mess

“Seriously, we have to do this now?” There was enough of a whine in Wynonna's voice to make him smile, a quick grin that he smothered under a rolled eye look. “It's four o'clock in the morning, just go to sleep.” The glow from the cell phone paled out at Doc's face, made him ghostly in the dark of the barn.

“It refuses to stop blinkin' at me. How am I supposed to sleep with that infernal blue light goin' on and off?” He shifted the screen so that it was aimed in her direction. Wynonna groaned and shifted her arm up to cover her eyes.

“Have you tried closing your eyes?” Dry. So sarcastically dry. Very much like Wyatt, like all the Earps. Doc's smile widened and he rolled closer to her, crowding her side of the bed.

“Wynonna, I am doin' my very best to acclimate to your modern technology.”

“Yeah, tell that the the toaster you fried last week.” She huffed a breath and finally rolled over, the uncomfortable slats of his makeshift bed digging into her hip. “Give me the damn thing.” Doc handed her the cell phone and she swiped it awake. “It's a notification.” His eyes narrowed as he studied what she was doing. “It's for—who the hell signed you up for Facebook?”

“Waverly--”

“I'm gonna kill that girl.” Wynonna gave him a hard look. “You are so not allowed to have a Facebook page.” With a few presses on the screen she deactivated the account and deleted the app from his phone. “Annoying immortal gunfighters don't get to have Facebook pages.”

“I am not immortal.” He took the phone when she handed it over, his hold still a bit uncertain, fingers tightened gingerly against the screen.

“You've been alive since 1850, it's close enough.”

“1851.”

“Seriously? You've gotta correct me by a year?” Wynonna stretched out in the bed, trying to make herself more comfortable. “You afraid I'm gonna think you're too old for me?”

“Darlin', it is a shame that you have made it to your advanced age an unmarried spinster.” Still holding the phone Doc propped himself up slightly, the air of the barn cool against his naked chest.

“Spin—listen jackass, I'll have you know that in modern society it's considered pretty damn icky to be a child bride.” The slap of her hand didn't hurt but there was the beginning of actual annoyance in her eyes and it darkened at the normally bright colors.

“I have noticed a plethora of unmarried woman of advanced age.” He was still grinning when he let the cell phone drop to the floor beside the bed. “And I must admit I am eternally grateful that you are not wedded and out of reach.” As he spoke he reached out for her, his calloused hands running up the stretch of her back before gripping around her sides.

“You call me old and then cop a feel? Really?” But she let him pull her back into his chest, let his fingers linger on her breasts. “Not to mention that you're like eight times older than me.”

“I am not old.” His words vibrated against the shell of her ear, the tone growled and teasing as he stripped her tee shirt over her head to bare her breasts. “I am experienced.”

“Sure you are. Lots of nooky when you're trapped in an abandoned well for a century.” But he was doing things to her, nibbling and sucking along the line of her jaw, his hands warm and friendly on her back.

“And yet, I can draw the most wanton, beggin' sounds from your throat.” The sureness in his voice was a turn on but Wynonna forced herself to roll her eyes and huff a half breath of air in his direction.

“Maybe I'm Meg Ryan-ing it.”

“I do not know what that means, but rest assured darlin', I do know what you like.” And he ran all of her hot spots, all the not directly sexually related bits that fired her up. The turn of the jaw, behind her left ear, his mustache rubbing teasingly against the skin of her hairline.

“Why'd you have to have an accent, huh?” Wynonna writhed under his touch, arching up under the teasing sweeps of his fingers. “I'da been okay if you didn't have an accent.”

“I seriously doubt that, little girl.” She smelled whiskey and gun oil as he lifted himself over her, weight balanced on his knees as he straddled her legs. “We were meant to find each other. To end up just like we are right now.” The length of his body and the breadth of his shoulders was back-lit by the light out in the yard and shadows roiled over scarred skin and muscle.

“I don't believe in fate. And I don't believe you got to stick around an extra hundred years or so just so we could bang.” And yet. He'd fit with her from the first moment, attracted and interested her in equal doses, pursued her even as he turned her away.

“Fate is the hand that moves us. Like chess pieces. Fate removed my mother from me when I was little more than a boy.” Doc licked his words into her clavicle, his tongue laving along her skin. “Fate sent me to the home of my Uncle where I discovered a skill for games of chance.” Once he'd licked the line of her shoulder he nipped at it, his teeth making her gasp. “Fate made it impossible for me to become what I'd been meant to become. Fate sent me west.” He switched from teeth to lips, pressing a soft kiss against her jaw.

“A hella bad cough sent you west.” Wynonna managed, barely able to keep her hands from pulling and tugging at him, from forcing him to take when all he seemed to want to do was tease. “I've read the books.”

“Fate.” He repeated, insistence hardening his tone. “Fate made sure I was in place to help Wyatt in Texas. And everythin' followed that.”

“So we're fucking because of fate?”

“Darling girl, if you consider this fucking than you have been ill used by the boys of your generation. This is a mere pleasure, a tease.” His body was warm, warmer than anyone else she knew. He always radiated heat, warm fingers, warm breath. Even the light from his eyes was blue flamed. “Bang is what dynamite does, fucking is what whores and horses do.” He filled his hands with her breasts, his thumbs stroking and flicking at her nipples. “I have been known to fuck, but I much prefer makin' love.”

“I'm more of a fan of fucking.” Wynonna gasped, her head rolling back into his flattened pillow as she arched her chest fuller into his hands. “Not as messy, less expectations.”

“That is a cryin' shame.” His kiss was gentle. “For expectations are what makes life interestin'.” He sucked on her tongue before letting her explore the inside of his mouth. “We could make a beautiful mess, Darlin', you and I.”

“That's what I'm worried about.”

“Let fate worry, for the time bein', how about you just enjoy, Wynonna.” Doc ran his hands down to her hips, his fingernails skimming her skin. The play of his fingers on her thighs was soft and teasing, touches running all around the edges of her panties as she squirmed under him. “Just close your eyes, darlin'.” The slats under the mattress creaked as he moved farther down her legs, his ass settling over her shins. The blanket shifted with the movement, the colder air mixing up with the heated touch of his hands and making her shiver. “Are you inordinately attached to these drawers?” The rub of his callouses against plain cotton had her fingers clutching against the blanket he used as a sheet. Her attempt as speech guttered out on a keened breath and she thrust her hips up into his touch. “Was that a yes or a no?” The slow sweep of his voice matched the way he stroked her through damp cotton. “A gentleman knows to never come between a woman and a beloved pair of drawers. Kate once knocked me nearly senseless over an unfortunate incident with her favorite corset.”

“Henry--”

“John Henry,” The correction was quiet, kissed into her stomach. His mustache and scruff roughed at the smooth skin as he traced around her belly button with his tongue. “Let it be John Henry here, when we are alone.”

“This some weird Wyatt kink?” Wynonna used his slight distraction to swallow down enough air to calm the whirling in her head. “Because that'd be hella weird.”

“Wyatt called me Doc. It was how we were introduced.” The very tip of one finger lifted the waistband of her panties, edging it lower on the flat of her stomach. “And you have not answered my question about these magnificent drawers.”

“That goddamn accent!” The frustration in her voice made him laugh, the sound and feel of it pressed into her pelvic bone. “I don't give a fuck about my underwear.” His fingers gripped the sides of her panties and in one quick motion the fabric ripped with a soft purring sound.

“Brilliant.” The stretch of bare skin he revealed was lighter than he expected, pale and creamy with a spattering of freckles that trailed down into neatly trimmed dark hair. “My sweet lord.” Doc's fingers traced the line of her inner thigh before palming underneath and shifting so that he could lift her knees and spread her legs wider.

“What?” The tone in his voice had her opening her eyes self consciously. Her shoulders curved up off the pillows so that she could see him. Doc knelt between her legs, one hand spread one either thigh. “Why are you staring?”

“You've shaved yourself like a harlot, darlin'.” A quick devilish grin flashed across his face when he looked up at her, eyes shining. “I approve.”

“I'm so glad.” Still slightly flustered, Wynonna reached out one hand to rub at his hair, angling the bangs away so that she could see his entire face. “I figured I'd better start doing the girl thing again if we were gonna get in the habit of being friendly. It's kinda expected.”

“Not by me, sweetheart.” Doc palmed at her hips, his long thumbs rubbing into the edges of the soft hair. “However I am beginnin' to see the aesthetic benefits.”

“I'm also on the pill, in case you're wondering.” His completely puzzled look stumped her for a moment and then she laughed. “Doesn't matter, I'll explain later.” Doc accepted her words with a shrug, his attention again focused lower.

“You do that, darlin'. But first--” The speed with which he moved was eerie, the precision of movement and bend when he folded down, head ducking between her raised thighs. He breathed in the clean and aroused scent of her before tasting. His tongue and teeth and fingers worked against her, completely wiping the thought of birth control and safe sex out of her brain and filling the now empty space with pure heated lust. She could feel the harshness of his facial hair rubbing the slick and sensitive skin red and she knew she'd regret the rawness of it in the morning as much if not more than she appreciated the sensation now.

“Oh man, unfair.” Wynonna mumbled and gripped both hands into his hair, her fingers knotting on the strands. She pulled him in tighter, thrusting up and rotating her hips to the pace he set. “Why didn't you do this last time?”

“Never reveal your full hand on short acquaintance, little girl. The longer you keep them guessin', the longer you hold the advantage.” Doc tilted his head and grinned at her, his eyes bright and blue even in the shadows. “And you are beautiful when riled, I never would have lasted had I started in this manner.”

“Too much talking, not enough--” The groan she let off when he ducked his head was loud, her teeth snapping together audibly. His tongue was just as talented as his fingers and before long her thighs were tensing, her arched feet digging into his shoulders as he worked her teasingly towards orgasm. He hummed a nonsense song against her clit, his lips vibrating as he pressed three fingers, slightly bent at the knuckle, into her. “John Henry!” His name on her lips as she came made the way she clamped down on his head and ripped at his hair almost worth it.

 

* * *

 

“You really believe in fate?” Doc had pulled her down against his chest when they'd finished, holding her still with a murmured request when she'd tried to shift up and away. “Seriously, or is that bullshit you spout when you wanna seem romantic?”

“Somethin' had a hand in it all.” His breathing was more wrecked than hers, his chest still heaving. “The sheer confluence of events.” The run of his fingers in her hair was soothing, the motion not unlike the shuffle of a deck of cards. “I was a dead man at twenty one, as insignificant to history as any other young man and yet,” His eyes were hazed and drawn with sleep when he turned her head to meet them. “Here I am, livin', breathin'. Which was more'n I managed when I was alive. Fate. Somethin'.”

“The Stone Witch.”

“A mere handmaiden of fate.” His breath smelled like whiskey and her and the sound of his breathing was a comfort. “No, darlin', there's a reason it happened the way it did.” Wynonna didn't usually feel the need to cuddle, to hold on just a little bit longer after the actual sex. It was a disadvantage as a woman wandering alone, she'd taught herself to be in charge, direct, to not want to be held in stronger arms and protected against the dark. But with Doc is was natural, almost comforting to curl up in his arms and hide herself against his sturdy length.

“Maybe it's just luck, just chance. All of it.” She talked to keep him from sleep, to keep him talking to her in the darkness. She talked to prolong each minute she could spend wrapped up in his arms because in sleep they'd both pull away. Solitary by nature they'd spread to the opposite sides of his uncomfortable bed and wake up chilled and hugged into themselves.

“Chance and I been ridin' alongside each other since I left Georgia. He's a fine friend, Wynonna, if you c'n keep him on your side.” Doc sighed and shifted down deeper into the pillow, tucking a twist of her hair close so that he could breathe in the sweetened smell of it. “An' as for luck, any good gambler makes his own.” The drawl and hush of his speech took his accent beyond intelligible, turned the words into nothing but a stream of pleasurable sound that vibrated from his chest to hers.

“You're going full Georgia, Doc, I can barely understand what you're saying. Lemme go so I can clean up and we can sleep.” With a begrudging sigh he relaxed his hold. Wynonna kissed at his chest before pushing herself off the mattress and up on tired legs. “It's a pretty thought that there's a point to all this Earp curse crap but I still don't believe in fate.”

“But fate believes in you, darlin'. He'd already started his turning away, his lagged body twisting to one side so he could watch her step away from the bed. Thin slits of blue appeared when he fluttered a mostly asleep look at her. “An' so do I.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Can't pass up the chance to write Doc Holliday. I was trying to write something with plot but porn came out instead. Oops.  
> Let me know what you think in the comments!


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